Close Call
by Emmithar
Summary: Exactly how long was a few minutes? It could very well mean the difference between life and death. GregSara friendship


**Close Call**

**By: **Emmithar

**Disclaimer: **Don't own anything, sadly enough

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Exactly how long was a few minutes? It could very well mean the difference between life and death. GregSara friendship.

**A/N: **First off, thanks go out to _Jenny_ and _Kegel _for their help with this. Couldn't have done it without them J

Secondly if you have not read 'The Bet', a joint fic by Jenny and me, you can find it here http/ of old news, but I keep forgetting to mention it. It's our first joint fic, so go enjoy! And no, I'm not done torturing Greg and Sara yet…

* * *

**Close Call**

_7:16 p.m._

He sat in the front seat, hands gripping the wheel tightly as he tried to control his uneven breathing. The gun was pressed to his head, and he didn't need to see it to know that it was indeed a gun. The voice next to him was cold, full of hate, a chilling rasp. There was no real way he could get out of this, but he could stall. After all, Sara had said that she would meet up with him in only a few minutes. But exactly how long was a few minutes?

* * *

_Earlier that morning; 7:30 a.m._

What did he need again? Greg chewed on his lower lip as he made his way down the isle, glancing at all the items that adorned the shelf. Maybe he could remember what Grissom had asked him to pick up just by looking, or he could make it easy on himself and just call the man and find out. Greg stuck to scanning the shelves instead.

Paper towels…no…napkins…no…tampons…definitely not. Wait a minute, why were the tampons next to the napkins? Greg made a face, deciding to ignore the last devious thought that had suddenly popped into his head as he made his way down the next isle.

With a grin he came to a stop, reaching out to grab the item. Peanut butter, that was what Grissom had wanted. The man had called him nearly ten minutes ago to ramble off his insane list. Greg stuck in the basket next the jar of pickles, and behind the orange juice. Greg had no idea what the bug man was up to, but he was beginning to regret ever going shopping for him.

He turned the corner, stopping short as the little girl almost ran into him, the small nimble body barely dodging out of the way. "Sorry," she mumbled an apology, moving around him to view the candy isle.

She had long black hair, at least long for her age, which couldn't be any more than six years. It was pulled back into a pony tail, and still it reached halfway down her back, nearly touching the top of her hot-pink shorts. He studied her a moment longer before turning away, wondering why such a youngster was running around the store herself.

Thinking better of it though he turned back around, watching as she reached over several other candy bars, standing on her tip toes.

"You need some help?" he wondered, coming back up to her. She jumped slightly, unaware that she was still being watched, but after a second she nodded, pointing up to what she wanted.

"I can't reach them, I'm too short."

Greg reached up to where the licorice was stacked, waiting before she nodded before he pulled one down for her. "Are you here alone?"

"Mommie's out in the car, she said I could get a snack," she explained once thanking him; her smile was bright, matching her hazel eyes.

Greg nodded, feeling somewhat better already. Still, the mother should have walked into the store with her, even if it would only take a handful of minutes to make the purchase. He noted with unease on how easily the girl had talked to him, on how willing she was to share information. What would have happened if he had been a serial killer, or a sex offender? The small child wouldn't have even stood a chance. These were the cases they had to work with, because of a careless parent. No one realized just how quickly everything could change.

He watched with a smile however as she skipped up to the front counter, once again having to stand on her tip toes to see over the ledge. Shaking his head Greg turned his attention back to his shopping, knowing that he needed at least one more item, it was only a matter of if he remembered what he was looking for or not.

Unfortunately he didn't have to worry about it any longer, because within the next moment the silence was shattered by the unmistakable sound of gunfire, followed by piercing screams.

* * *

_8:40 a.m._

Temperatures were already in the nineties, so why then did she feel so cold? Sara crossed under the yellow tape, meeting up with Nick who busy photographing the scene, focusing in on the shattered windows at that moment.

"How bad is it?"

Nick shook his head, lowering the camera. "Two dead, one injured, and nobody saw our killers. It can't get much worse."

"Surveillance?" she wondered, glancing over her shoulder to where the aid car still sat.

"Camera's were duds, we won't get anything. I've talked with Greg already but he's still pretty shaken. Confirms that he didn't see any faces though, just two guys, the full black wardrobe and all."

"Is he okay though?"

Nick nodded without hesitation. "Bullet ricocheted off the floor, clipped him in the arm. It's intact; lucky for us, it might be the only one we get. It didn't penetrate his skin very deep, the paramedics were able to extricate it here no problem. They're just cleaning him up now."

"And he saw nothing?" Sara wondered, already feeling a little better. She could see him from where she stood, but he hadn't even noticed her arrival yet.

"He said he didn't see any faces, I haven't asked him anymore than that. I figured I'd let him calm down first."

Sara nodded, seeing his point, but still at the same time couldn't help but wonder. She glanced over to him once again, frowning as the paramedics worked around him. It was when Nick started laughing she realized he had been trying to talk to her.

"Why don't you just go over and see him before you drive everyone crazy," he chuckled, moving up onto the sidewalk in front of the store.

With a smile she considered it, before actually moving to do so. She wouldn't be able to work unless she knew for certain; she just wouldn't be able to concentrate. The expression on Greg's face was enough to convince her that he hadn't known she was even here. He let out a smile as she knelt down in front of him.

"How are we feeling?"

"I'm never shopping for Grissom again," Greg declared, provoking a laugh from her.

With a chuckle she nodded towards his bandaged arm, trying to sound serious now. "Does it hurt?"

He flexed it, wincing some as he did so, but he pushed it aside, pretending nothing had ever happened. "Not really…I didn't even know I was hurt as first."

Sara touched his arm lightly, pulling back when he flinched. She offered up an apologetic smile as she sat down next to him. "You still have the bullet?"

"Right here," the paramedic held the small plastic bag up, Greg taking it from his hands to stare at the small object.

"Nice," Sara nodded, glancing at him. "Mind if I have it?"

"Science geek," Greg grinned at her, but handed it over at the same time.

"Takes one to know one."

He started to laugh, but grew quiet as the saw the gurney that was being wheeled out. Even with the sheets drawn tight Sara could only guess it was the little girl that had been in the store. She didn't say anything, only watched his grim expression as the body was loaded in the van.

With a deep breath she knew that now would be the time to distract him. "What did you see?"

He blinked, turning back to her. His expression was still grim as he answered. "Chaos."

* * *

_1:30 p.m._

"All I'm saying is that Miss Dunsan should have been in the store with her kid," Nick stated quietly, coming into the locker room. Greg glanced up as he worked to get his jacket off, taking care to mind his arm, which was now sore, although it hadn't been earlier.

"Maybe, but in a way she's lucky. We may be looking at two dead bodies otherwise," Warrick responded, falling quiet when he saw Greg was in there. "Sorry man, I didn't know you were still in here."

"It's okay," Greg tried not to roll his eyes. Everyone thought as though he was made of glass. That if they talked of death, or dying, or even guns, he would go crazy. It was far from the truth actually. Talking about it, going on as though nothing had happened, it made him feel better.

Of course, the image of the bright little girl lying flat on a cold slab was a chilling thought. Even more so after seeing her bounce around the store, a smile on her face, her eyes sparkling as she laughed…

He nodded to the men, trying to shake the thoughts from his head. "I agree, I mean yeah, there could have been one more body, but maybe she would have been able to save her kid. If she had gone in there with her they could have been gone before the robbers came in."

Nick frowned, watching him. "How do figure?"

Greg smiled sadly as he closed his locker. "I had to help her get some stuff down from the top shelf."

"So we don't know how long she spent trying to get it down," Warrick shook his head, cursing quietly. It was always hard to work a case that involved children. It only made it harder knowing the fact that the child could have been saved. "She could have been long gone by then."

Greg nodded in agreement staying quiet as he started to leave. It was Warrick who stopped him, only to remind him that there was someone waiting for him up front. Greg nodded, he had heard the page, it just had taken him some time to redress taking in account his injury.

He wasn't sure who it was, since they didn't announce names, but the last person he expected was the mother of the young girl, Miss Dunsan herself. Rubbing the back of his neck he let out a nervous sigh, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Is there something I can help you with miss?"

She turned to face him, and Greg could see the same features in her as he could the girl. The raven hair, the soft face, and the eyes, the eyes were different. The young girl had been bright, happy even. These eyes, they held pain and something else…fury.

"You were the one in the store with my daughter?"

Greg nodded, staying quiet. He wasn't sure what to expect, but his stomach was turning heavily inside.

"Where were you when it happened?" she asked coldly, "You were right there, you were standing, right, there! And you couldn't do anything!" she cried, her voice breaking now as the flood of tears came.

Greg took a step back shaking his head as he tried to calm her. "There wasn't much I could do; I was too far away…"

"You're a cop!" She was screaming now, acquiring the attention of more than one coworker. "You had a gun, you could have done something! My baby is dead now because of you!"

Greg couldn't respond, the bile rising in the back of his throat. He shifted uncomfortably in his spot, trying to find the right thing to say, barely registering the fist as it came at him. It never made its target however, Warrick stepping in between the two, holding the woman back. He was doing his best to calm her, but even still she shouted her threats through him, the words falling on deaf ears.

With a sudden shiver he turned away, taking off down the hall. He couldn't handle this. Not now, not ever.

* * *

_3:20 pm_

Sara watched him for a moment, moving then to push the plate closer to him. "You don't really blame yourself do you?"

Greg's eyes flicked to hers briefly before turning away. Timidly he reached out, picking up a celery stick from the offered plate. A little bit of peanut butter, and everything was fine. Or so he thought, as he quietly chewed on one end. Sara was expecting an answer, but what was he going to say exactly?

That he didn't, which would be a lie, a lie that he knew Sara would be able to catch easily enough. And if he said that he did, Sara would only try to convince him otherwise. He didn't want to see her waste her breath. No amount of counseling would help him. The sound of the gunfire, watching her fall, and not move…it was embedded into his mind. Maybe he should have gone home; Grissom had told him he could.

"You don't have to answer," Sara told him quietly, "Just don't ignore me…please?"

With a sigh he turned to her. He hated it when she said please. It always made him feel guilty. Sara never said please unless she really wanted something. She knew it was his weakness, and he frowned as she smiled. Sara knew she had gotten under his skin. It wasn't fair.

"I don't know," he answered instead, hoping that would please her. She just nodded, indicating for him to continue. Of course it wouldn't satisfy her, what was he thinking?

"I just feel like I could have done something…or nothing you know. If I hadn't helped her she would have still been trying to get the candy down. She would have been clear of the fire. She would have been okay."

"You don't know that," Sara countered him. "They would have seen her down there…you were close to that area. You would have been hurt worse…killed even. You were lucky."

"Lucky," Greg repeated, scoffing at the word. "Inauspicious if you ask me. What where the chances of me being in that store while it was being robbed? If I had written the list down I wouldn't have forgotten what I was getting. I could have gone to a different store; I could have left my place earlier…or later. Luck doesn't run my way Sara."

"Why are so against this?" She wondered, frowning as she held her chin in her hands. "It's like you want to blame yourself."

"Sorry," Greg offered up a smile, trying to shake the dismal feeling. "I just keep thinking what if…plus the fact of having an angry parent get in your face. It doesn't help."

"Sometimes people blame others because it's easier than accepting the pain. They find it easier to be angry, as opposed to sad."

"You're an expert now?" he wondered, taking another bite.

She gave him a smile, but didn't answer. For a few good minutes they sat in silence, letting it comfort them, knowing that the other was nearby if needed. It was Sara, in fact, that spoke up first.

"There was nothing you could have done…"

Greg nodded, shoving the last bit into his mouth. He didn't want to talk about it anymore, but he didn't want to discourage her, make her think that her words had no affect on him. They did…he just didn't realize it yet.

* * *

_5:25 p.m._

With a discouraging sigh he dropped the booklet on the table, moving to the next item. A diary of sorts…Greg flipped open the first page, scanning the words. It was a day planner, and he chuckled to himself softly as he read the content. Their victim had obviously made an effort to write every single event down.

Leaning against the table he continued to read, flipping to the next page. Maybe there was something in here that would indicate her plans for the night she died. The victim, Michelle James, was found in a dumpster outside of a costume shop. So far they had no explanation to why she would be there, according to friends and family she didn't hang around that part of town.

A body dump had been discouraged however; David had confirmed that the victim had died there, blood loss due to stab wounds. She hadn't been moved. Greg figured she was stabbed in the alleyway, and tossed in the nearest canister. It would have taken a few, long, agonizing minutes for her to die.

He shifted uncomfortably as his cell phone went off. Greg had only become more uneasy as the day went on. At first he thought he was fine, he would get over it all. But time after time he was proved wrong. The more he delved into death and dying, the more uncomfortable he became.

"Sanders."

Standing up quickly his face tightened, recognizing the voice on the end. At first the only thought that crossed his mind was 'not again', and though he wanted desperately to say something back he only closed the phone, ending the call before slamming the device down on the table.

"Did we not get enough coffee this morning?" Catherine wondered as she came into the room.

Greg shook his head sadly, leaning against the table. "Suspect," he started, before he corrected himself, "Victim, of the convenience store robbery. I don't know how she got my number, but she won't stop calling."

The blonde raised an eyebrow. "For how long now?"

Greg checked his phone, nodding as his thoughts were confirmed. "Ten calls in the last seven minutes."

Even as he spoke it went off another time, and Greg didn't bother answering it, only held it up so Catherine could see the number. With a frown she held her hand up, and Greg accepted the offer, handing the phone over.

Leave it to Catherine to finish things quickly. Three minutes, and the blonde was successfully pressing it back into his hand. "Number's been blocked, and if she continues to bother you let someone know. We'll take care of it."

"What would I do without you?" Greg wondered smugly, turning back to his work.

She was thinking, but in the end shook her head, chuckling softly. "Never mind, you probably wouldn't want to know."

Greg blinked, watching her leave the room. With a short shake of his head he turned back to the table once more, confident now that things were going to be okay.

* * *

_7:14 p.m._

He had found a lead. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. Greg had reported his findings to Grissom; his supervisor was both surprised and pleased. Surprised that he was still there, he figured the youth would have gone home a long while ago. Pleased about his work.

Normally Grissom found it necessary to accompany him anywhere, especially to a crime scene. Instead he just nodded, informing him to take Sara. Greg couldn't complain, in fact he wouldn't even argue. If he could go with anyone, Sara was his first choice.

She was changing in the locker room, but nodded as he told her. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Night was already covering the city, the streetlights already on for quite some time now. With a sly grin he knew that with Sara lagging behind, it gave him ample opportunity to drive. He wasn't a bad driver, like Sara enjoyed accusing him of. She just preferred being in the one in control. With a laugh he opened the door, sliding into the seat.

It was then the barrel made contact, it was then he froze. "Are you ready to die?"

Greg swallowed, dropping the keys as his fingers wrapped around the wheel. He had heard her voice enough to know who it was. Miss Dunsan…she had been waiting, watching. How much of a fool could he be? At the same time how could he have known?

"You don't want to do this," he tried to convince her quietly. Her quiet laugh didn't help the current situation.

"I want you to know what my daughter went through, I will watch you die, but I want you to know why I have to do this…"

"You don't have to," Greg whispered quietly, glancing in his rearview mirror. Where was Sara? "It's not going to bring your daughter back."

"No," she agreed calmly, "but at least you won't be around to screw up other families. You watched my daughter die…you let them kill her. And what are you doing? Going for a midnight joy ride?"

Greg tried to calculate the time in his head. A few minutes wasn't long, but at this moment it seemed like an eternity. He cleared his throat, coming up with the only excuse he could think of. He needed to keep her talking…needed to buy some time.

"What would you accomplish by killing me? Would that make you happy?"

She blinked, and Greg felt slight satisfaction. He had gotten to her…but how would she react?

"You don't want to do this…"

She nodded vigorously then, her hold tightening on the gun. "Yes…I do…"

He flinched at the sound of gunfire, but it took him a moment to realize that he was still alive, that he was unharmed. So was Dunsan, who looked more bewildered than anything else. It was then Sara came into the light, gun drawn, already fired, a warning shot. It was smart move; the others would not be far behind now.

"Greg, are you okay?" Sara asked, her first concern.

He nodded, only answering vocally when he realized Sara couldn't see him. Her gaze was on the woman as she inched closer to her. "Put your gun down."

"He killed my baby," she spat out angrily, her hand shaking now.

"No," Sara shook her head. "A couple of teenagers did, a couple of fifteen year old boys who wanted money for drugs. They killed your daughter…"

"He could have done something!" she screamed, stomping her foot harshly into the cement.

"What?" Sara asked her, inching even closer. "He's not a cop…he doesn't carry a gun. There was nothing he could have done…"

Greg blinked, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the woman next to him wavered. _He's not a cop…he doesn't carry a gun. _Sara was right…there wasn't anything he could have done. He could see it clearly in his mind now, how he had been down the next isle, and the girl at the counter. The men hadn't even been inside when she had been shot down.

He blinked again, noticing as the other cops were gathering around, their own guns drawn. If there was a shoot out now, he would be caught right in the cross fire. That didn't sound very appealing to him. Swallowing he gripped the wheel even tighter, watching in his rearview mirror as Sara inched closer to them.

The mother was still holding the gun; the gun was still aimed at him. Sara was now nearly against the car, reaching out with one hand slowly. "You need to put the gun down," Sara tried to convince her. "Killing anyone won't take away your pain. It won't bring anyone back…"

Greg huffed quietly, shaking his head. He could have told her that…wait a minute, he already had. Sara was gripping the gun now, slowly putting her own away as her fingers wrapped around the barrel. "Just let go…"

With a defeated sigh Dunsan let go, a soft cry escaping her lips as she turned away. There was nowhere for her to go, and she wasn't about to put up a fight. Greg remained in the car, staring straight ahead. Sara had handed off the weapon first to another officer before turning back to him.

"Greg?"

She was resting against the door, her arms crossed as she leaned her head down to study him. He knew she was waiting for an answer, but this time he couldn't give her one. He was shaking to bad, and even her comforting hand on his shoulder didn't help much. "I'll take you home."

* * *

_11:54 pm_

He had showered, had changed, and still couldn't shake the eerie feeling off. Without bothering to even comb his hair he wandered out of the bathroom, stopping short when seeing that she was still there.

"You feel better?"

Greg nodded slowly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Sara moved to the side. He clasped his hands together, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought things over. Sara had taken him home yes, had seen him inside yes, but he hadn't expected her to wait around while he wallowed in his self-pity.

"You want to talk about it?"

Turning to her he wondered what could possibly compel her to worry so strongly over something like this. He would be fine, given some rest and time to recuperate. Why did she want to hear him talk about it so much?

"You may not know this about me," she started, nodding to him. "But I'm a good listener."

Greg smiled, chuckling softly. "I vaguely remember hearing someone say that once."

Her hand was resting on his shoulder, but was moving further down now as she scooted closer. Greg welcomed the comfort, leaning his head on her shoulder as she rubbed his back.

"Will you stay?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet, dry even. Part of him regretted asking the question, and he feared the answer.

It didn't take long, and she didn't stir from her position, nor slow in her current task. "I will," she nodded with a soft smile. "I always will."

**The End**


End file.
